My Introduction to Ng’s work
I must first confess that I’ve never read Little Fires Everywhere, but I binge watched the series on Hulu. Mia’s complicated relationship with her adolescent daughter, Pearl, kept me mesmerized. Without ruining the story, let’s just say, Pearl’s birth story was highly unusual.The two of them battled for Pearl’s autonomy amid a tight relational bond.
Then I heard Brené Brown’s interview with the author Celeste Ng, and I fell under the story’s spell.
A Consuming Maternal Love
Brené and Celeste discussed the complexity of parenthood. They described the ferocious love a mother can have for her child. How sometimes its intensity threatens to consume both the parent and offspring.
Then Brené read this quote. I was out for my afternoon stroll. Right there in the middle of the street, I stopped and sobbed.
She read,
Parents, she [Mia] thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less. As a baby Pearl had clung to her; she’d worn Pearl in a sling because whenever she’d set her down, Pearl would cry. There’d scarcely been a moment in the day when they had not been pressed together.
As she got older, Pearl would still cling to her mother’s leg, then her waist, then her hand, as if there was something in her mother she needed to absorb through the skin. Even when she had her own bed, she would often crawl into Mia’s in the middle of the night and burrow under the old patchwork quilt, and in the morning they would wake up tangled, Mia’s arm pinned beneath Pearl’s head, or Pearl’s legs thrown across Mia’s belly.
Now, as a teenager, Pearl’s caresses had become rare — a peck on the cheek, a one-armed, half-hearted hug — and all the more precious because of that.
It was the way of things, Mia thought to herself, but how hard it was. The occasional embrace, a head leaned for just a moment on your shoulder, when what you really wanted more than anything was to press them to you and hold them so tight you fused together and could never be taken apart.
It was like training yourself to live on the smell of an apple alone, when what you really wanted was to devour it, to sink your teeth into it and consume it, seeds, core, and all.
The bittersweet accuracy of Mia’s final thoughts tore my heart into tiny pieces.
Yes, this is how I feel about each of my children.
The Threat of a Fearful Mother’s Love
Twenty months ago, I got a call that my oldest was near death with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, an often fatal bone cancer. I immediately made an international move to be by his side.
Terrified that I might lose him, I had to pry myself away from the side of his hospital bed. I never felt such helplessness as I watched him fight to take the next breath.
My short marriage was ending at the time, so there were no comforting arms to hold me. Many nights I cried myself to sleep. My desperate prayer was, “Please, please, please…”.
Last week, my son turned 30. He’s doing well, but cancer lingers like a spectral. Will this disease return? The possibility is real, but I pray it doesn’t.
The Pain of Loving While Facing the Reality of Loss
I know death well. Six and half years ago, I lost my husband to small intestinal cancer. I survived the blinding pain of those early days by putting one foot in front of the other. But there’s still a hollow in my heart and life he once occupied.
The threat of possibly losing my son, though, is wholly something else.
As each of my three boys inched toward adulthood, like Mia, I reluctantly released them into the world by training myself to live on less. To survive with fewer hugs, less frequent conversations, and sporadic visits.
Healthy Love Releases What It Cherishes
Though it cost me, their emancipation was necessary; it fostered each young man’s emotional maturity.
But can I release one of my sons into the arms of death? Every fiber of my being screams no, yet, to die well often requires a good sending.
I understand Mia’s desperation. Her desire to fuse with her daughter — it’s my heart’s cry too.
Instead, I will continue to open my hands and release each of my sons to the world — no matter the cost.
…
Let’s stay in touch!
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Previously Published on medium
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